


Take Me Home Tonight

by PhryneFicathon, Sarahtoo



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: Established Phrack, F/M, PWP, Post-Canon, Smutty von smutsalot, phracktastic, post-S3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-13
Updated: 2018-02-13
Packaged: 2019-03-15 20:36:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13621218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhryneFicathon/pseuds/PhryneFicathon, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sarahtoo/pseuds/Sarahtoo
Summary: Jack gets an unexpected request to show up for a meeting with a mysterious woman at a jazz club.





	Take Me Home Tonight

**Author's Note:**

  * For [propangel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/propangel/gifts).



> Prompt: Phryne and Jack pretend to be strangers in a bar and smut ensues.
> 
> Author’s note: OK, I thought I was done when I finished your other prompt, but this one kept nagging me! And since established Phrack is my catnip, I decided I had to do another prompt. I hope you love it!

Jack stepped into the bar, doing his best to appear nonchalant. He’d been packing up to head home when he’d gotten the note requesting his presence here, and he hoped that removing the waistcoat under his blue wool suit jacket would be sufficient to make him look less like a police officer.

Moving toward the bar, Jack’s eyes searched the crowd. The room was dark, and the dance floor was packed with people whose moves could only be called dancing because there was a band playing. He blinked, trying to remember that he wasn’t here to arrest anyone.

“Whiskey,” he said to the man behind the bar, raising his voice to be heard over the band and the crowd.

“Put that on my tab, will you, Peter?”

The voice came from behind him, and Jack whirled. The woman who’d spoken was stunning, her dress showing a scandalous amount of skin and her dark hair slicked back from her face, exposing spit curls affixed to cheekbones so sharp they could cut glass.

“That’s kind,” he said, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Whom should I be thanking for my drink?”

“I’m Jenny,” she purred, moving close, her eyes sweeping down his body, hand extending to slide a finger down his red-and-blue tie. “What’s your name, handsome?”

Jack swallowed, his body responding to her nearness. “Ah, I’m… um… I’m Dan,” he stammered. 

“Are you here alone, Dan?” Jenny looked up at him, the heavy kohl surrounding her bright blue eyes making them stand out even more in the low light of the club. 

She wore red satin that left her arms bare and dipped low between her breasts. Its fringed hemline began several inches above her knees, and Jack could see a flash of her thigh through the dangling beads—her stockings were sheerly nude, but her garter was a red a few shades darker than her dress. More beads decorated the bodice of the dress, catching the light as she moved, and strings of sparkling stones dangled at her ears.

“Not anymore,” he responded, tilting his head to give her a meaningful look. She smiled and lifted her martini glass to him. He lifted the whiskey the bartender had just passed him, and they both drank.

Leaning in, he put his mouth next to her ear. “Would you like to dance, Jenny?” He drew in a deep breath, appreciating her scent as he deliberately brushed her earlobe with his lips.

“I would, Dan,” she responded, her voice suddenly breathless.

Drawing back, he drained his whiskey and set the glass on the bar; he watched as she did the same. Stepping away slightly, he held out his hand to her, his heart jumping when she slid her fingers across his palm.

The band had segued smoothly into “All of Me”—Jack recognized it because Phryne had been playing the Louis Armstrong album around the house the week before. In this moment, it seemed terribly apropos. For three years, he’d shown Phryne how much he wanted all of her—from her brilliant brain to her ridiculously large shoe collection and everything in between. Tonight, and his presence here, was just another bit of evidence.

He pulled Jenny close and lifted one of her arms up and around his neck, his fingers trailing lightly along her skin from her wrist to her shoulder. She slid her other hand up his chest, her fingernails scraping softly through the single layer of his shirt. He shivered at the sensation, then again when she brushed her fingertips through the short hairs at his nape. He ran a hand up her back, feeling warm skin and the even rows of raised beads that edged her neckline. Jack let his fingers dance along the diagonal demarcation of skin and dress as they moved together to the music, their bodies touching as much as possible.

Lowering his head, he tucked his face into her shoulder and breathed in the intoxicating scent of perfume and woman. Unable to resist, he pressed his lips lightly to the line of her neck; she arched slightly to give him better access, and he heard her singing along, her voice breathy but beautiful:

_All of me, why not take all of me?_

_Can’t you see, I’m no good without you?_

Jack turned his head to speak softly into her ear. “I will take all of you,” he murmured, taking her earlobe softly between his teeth. “As soon as you’ll let me.” His hand dipped to stroke her hip, his fingers slipping softly over her bottom; he pulled her hips close so that she could feel her effect on him. 

“Why Dan,” she responded, tightening her arms around his neck so that her breasts were flattened against his chest. “That’s very forward of you.” He could hear the desire building in her voice.

“Are you offended?” He twirled her and she moved with him, arching back into a dip. Her nipples stood hard and distended against the satin of her dress, and she widened her stance so that her legs were on either side of one of his. When she came back up, he managed to cup his hand around her ribcage to stroke it down her side and back around her waist, on the way, his thumb passed over her nipple between their bodies, and he felt her shudder.

“Absolutely not,” she whispered, and kissed him.

Her mouth tasted of gin martini and lipstick wax, and her tongue was warm and smooth against his own. Jack kissed her back as they swayed to the music, his arms tightening around her. 

When they came up for air, Jack said, “I have somewhere we can go—I’m staying at the hotel across the street.” He could feel her chest heaving against his, and his arm around her waist pulled her close against his hardened cock, which strained against his trousers.

“But Dan,” she protested, running one hand down his tie, “you just got here. You’ve gotta show a girl a good time.” Her smile flashed bright white, and she whirled away from him, his tie in hand, as the band began to play an upbeat number he didn’t recognize. With a low groan, he followed her.

This time, their dance was not so slow and close, and Jack was thankful for the dancing lessons Phryne had insisted upon as he followed Jenny’s flashing steps. She was stunning, the fringed edge of her skirt lifting as she turned, her golden shoes glittering in the low lights of the club. He watched her as he danced, his eyes tracing her bare arms, the skin of her neck and back, the vee between her breasts, and her laughing face. She was magnificent, and he planned to ravish her—when had Phryne’s word for lovemaking sneaked into his vocabulary?—at the first opportunity.

Over the next two hours, they danced to nearly every song, only stopping occasionally to have a drink and to tease each other with long, slow kisses. With every slow dance, their caresses became more heated, and they retreated into the shadows at the edge of the dance floor before each dance was through. There was one corner where Jack could press her up against the wall, his thigh between her legs, and kiss her; because one side was obscured from the rest of the club, he could run his hand over her breasts, dip his fingers under the edge of her bodice to touch her skin, or slide them along the top of her garter. 

Finally, with “Alone Together” playing in the background, his fingers slid through the fringe above her knee and under the edge of her skirt, tracing the inner line of her thigh, his body blocking her from the view of the room.

“Oh god, _Dan_!” she gasped when he cupped her between her legs. 

“You’re so wet, Jenny,” he rasped against her neck. Her knickers—such as they were, so tiny as to hardly be worth the name—were soaking, and he felt his cock harden in response. “Are you ready to go now?”

“Yes, please, J—Dan,” she whimpered, and he knew it was because he’d slid a finger along the crease of her sex. 

“I cannot wait to fuck you,” he growled.

She nodded mutely, and he pulled his hand away, lifting it to his nose as he straightened and held the other hand out for her to grasp. Leading her through the bar, Jack checked the faces of the other revelers—none of them appeared to have noticed what he and Jenny had done in the corner; most were too occupied with similar activities of their own.

They paused at the bar to reclaim Jenny’s wrap—a purple velvet cape edged in white fur—and to pay their bar tab, before Jack ushered her out onto the darkened street. Tugging on her hand, Jack led her across to a small, pretty hotel.

“Dan, wait,” Jenny said, and he stopped, uncertain. She dug into her small handbag and withdrew a handkerchief. “Come here,” she said softly, and stepped close. “You have lipstick…” 

Jack laughed softly. He imagined that he’d spent the whole evening dancing with her lipstick smeared across his face like some sort of brand; he rather liked the idea that she’d marked him. For now, though, it could be awkward. Standing still, he dipped his head to let her wipe it off before ducking to kiss her, intending it to be a soft, sweet thing—the kiss caught fire the moment his lips met hers. She swept her tongue between his lips and he sucked it in, forgetting where they were in her taste and the sensation of her body against his. Long moments passed as they lost themselves in each other under the light of the summer moon, but finally Jack lifted his head.

“Let’s get inside, shall we?” His voice was hoarse, and he watched as Jenny forced her eyes to open. 

“That might be best,” she murmured. She laughed a little and lifted the handkerchief she still held to wipe at his mouth again before stepping back and swiping at her own. “Am I all right?”

“Better than,” he murmured, but took the handkerchief and wiped away the smudges of red, leaving her lips naturally pale pink. “Gorgeous,” he whispered, passing his thumb over her lower lip. Her smile was sultry, and he returned it with a small one of his own. Despite his almost painful state of arousal, there was nowhere on earth he’d rather be.

Turning, Jack wordlessly tilted his head and held out his arm; she slid her hand around his bicep and they moved through the heavy oak doors of the hotel. The lobby was decorated in soothing blues and greens, and the young woman at the front desk who handed Jack his key cast a sidelong look at Jenny that telegraphed her jealousy; Jack didn’t notice—he was too absorbed in his companion and what he wanted to do to her when they reached his room.

Key in hand, they turned to walk silently toward the elevator. Jack held his head high, enjoying the soft tickle of the fur on her wrap against his neck and the way her hip bumped softly against his. He wondered what the best way to get her out of that dress would be, and whether she’d consider wearing the plush wrap later with nothing beneath it but skin. 

Jack stepped into the elevator, his mind preoccupied by the thought of her pale skin against the deep purple velvet; as the operator closed the door and set their floor number, he felt her turn to him, pressing his arm into the valley of her breasts and switching her grip on his bicep to her other hand. Glancing down at her, he saw her looking up at him through heavy-lidded eyes, and he felt the hand she’d just dropped from his arm glide over his buttocks and slide between his thighs to stroke the sensitive skin behind his balls. He shifted, nostrils flaring, to give her more room, and she took it, rubbing him firmly. Jack moved a hand to fasten his jacket, hoping to at least obscure the jut of his hardened cock against his trousers. 

Glancing back down at her, he saw that she’d tucked the hand wrapped around his arm through to cup her breast, and she was stroking her nipple through the satin of her dress. His cock jumped, and he unbent his elbow to let his hand hover over her mons. Keeping an eye on the back of the elevator operator’s head, he cupped her through her dress and felt her press closer, trapping his fingers against his thigh and grinding her hips softly. She dropped her head to rest against his shoulder as she rocked against him; he could hear her breath quickening with each pulse of her hips.

Jack licked his lips, his eyelids fluttering at the dual sensation of her hand between his legs and his hand on her. He looked up at the floor indicator and realized that they were approaching their floor; dipping a hand into his pocket, he palmed a coin for the elevator operator and gave Jenny’s mound a last soft squeeze before bending his elbow again. At her soft sound of protest, he looked down to meet eyes blurry with desire and smiled. 

“Almost there, darling,” he murmured, and watched her realize their location. She shifted, her hand leaving his bottom with a soft pat before she wrapped that hand around his bicep again, the picture of prim propriety—albeit well-kissed. 

When the elevator doors opened, they stepped through, Jack passing the operator his tip, and headed toward the room he’d taken for the night. This wasn’t the Windsor, by any means, but it was comfortable and clean, and the beds were good-sized. That was really all an assignation like this one required. Jack slid the key into his door, and the lock clicked; he pushed the door open and Jenny stepped inside, her wrap sliding off of her shoulders before he’d even stepped through. She hung it carelessly on a hook beside the door, revealing that red dress again, and Jack felt his arousal roar to life. 

He shrugged out of his suit jacket, hanging it beside her wrap before following her into the room. She’d stopped at the room’s wireless, flicking it on, and the soft strains of jazz wound quietly through the space. Jack stepped up to where she stood in front of the machine, catching her by her hips to press against her back. She leaned back against him, one hand rising to cup the back of his head, and she turned her head. His mouth covered hers and he slid both hands up to cover her breasts through the satin of her gown. Their kiss was heated, tongues fully involved, and their bodies swayed to the music. Jack slid his hands down her belly to her thighs, catching the hem of her dress through the fringing, and tugging upward; the snug fabric resisted at first and then slid softly up until it was bunched around her waist. He slid the fingers of one hand beneath it and into her tiny knickers, delving down into the humid heat between her thighs; his other hand moving back up to slide over her breast, the beads on her bodice biting softly into the palm of his hand alongside her hardened nipple.

Jenny whimpered, widening her legs as Jack’s fingers circled her sensitive flesh, and she cried out when he pressed two digits deep inside her body. Jack groaned at the hot clasp of her sex, his hand clenching on her breast as he finger-fucked her, his thumb sliding against her clit. She raised a hand to lay it over the one on her breast, pulling him closer, and Jack pressed his hardened cock against her buttocks, his mouth trailing down her neck as her head fell back against his shoulder.

“How does this dress come off?” The words were growled against her skin. 

“Pull… over my head,” she gasped, and he withdrew his fingers from her body, feeling her muscles clench as she tried to hold him in place. 

Grasping both sides of her skirt again, he lifted the dress off, the susurration of the beads sliding against each other audible even over the brassy sounds of jazz. Gathering the dress in one hand, he tossed it over the top of the radio before wrapping his arms around her once more, his fingers returning to their warm, wet nest inside knickers of the palest pink silk. She turned her upper body in his arms, laying back against his bicep, and Jack bent low to lick one taut pink nipple into his mouth. 

Jenny moaned, wrapping his tie around her hand, her other arm clutching at his shoulder as her climax built. Jack sucked hard on her nipple, his hand speeding up its motion between her legs, and with a short scream, she shattered. He held her while she shook, his fingers buried inside her, his palm pressing against her clit; the motion of her spasming muscles delighted him. 

When she went limp, he scooped her up and moved over toward the bed, laying her gently atop the coverlet. Straightening, he began to remove his clothes, gazing at her. She was nude but for her knickers, stockings, and shoes, her skin was flushed pink with satisfaction, and her hair was beginning to loosen from whatever she’d used to pull it back, the red beads of her earrings lying tangled with the jetty strands. Her chest heaved as she came back to her senses, and she blinked and licked her lips as she watched his skin come into view. 

“Strip,” he commanded roughly as he pushed off his braces and pulled his shirt off his shoulders to toss it—tie still tucked under the collar—to one side.

“Mmm, commanding,” she said, satisfied laughter in her voice. She complied, pushing her knickers down and over her heels first, then lifting first one leg, then the other, to remove her shoes. He could tell that she angled herself so that he could see the moisture-starred flesh between her legs with each movement, and yet he swallowed hard, unable to take his eyes off of it.

“Why, Dan,” she purred as he pushed his trousers and underthings off to stand nude before her, “you certainly look happy to see me.” Stockings still on, she rolled up to her knees and beckoned him to come closer. He stepped up to the side of the bed and she reached out to take his cock in her hands. “Hello, handsome,” she murmured, before covering its head with her mouth.

Jack sucked in a breath as the heat of her mouth engulfed his glans, her tongue sliding around to flutter against the vein that ran the underside of his cock. He set his hands on her shoulders, stroking down her back as she sucked him in; his hips pulsed helplessly as she began a rhythm, pulling him in as far as she could take him before going all the way back and laving his head with her tongue. Her breasts dangled temptingly beneath her, and he reached for them, cupping their slight curves in his palms, her nipples slotting easily between his spread fingers. He massaged the soft flesh, tugging gently at her; she moaned softly and he felt the vibration of her voice against his heated skin.

Before long, he knew that if he didn’t stop her, he’d be coming from her mouth alone, and he’d been thinking about fucking her for hours now. Moving his hands to her shoulders, he pushed lightly, stepping back. She opened her eyes to look up at him questioningly, and her lips were reddened and plump from their recent workout. Jack growled wordlessly, lifting her up by her shoulders and covering that mouth with his own. 

Jenny’s arms looped around his neck and he stepped close, his cock nudging insistently against her belly. He set a knee on the bed, bearing her backward, and Jenny complied, moving with him to lie down on her back, her knees around his waist and his cock rubbing along the seam of her sex.

“Please,” she whispered as he pressed his hips against hers, sliding his cock in the copious moisture between her legs. “Please, now.”

Jack nodded, his voice locked inside his throat, and reached between their bodies to position himself at her entrance. He held her eyes as he slid inside, the hot clasp of her body forcing a groan of pleasure out of his throat; she made a similar noise, her mouth opening wide as he buried himself to the root.

“Fuck, you feel good,” the words were forced from between clenched teeth. 

“Ohhhh, I definitely do,” she moaned, her legs tightening around him.

Huffing out a laugh, he began to move, undulating the muscles in his back and hips to smoothly slide against her. With each stroke, he withdrew nearly all the way, then pushed back inside; her hands slid to clench at his back, her fingernails tiny pricks of pain that made his pleasure all the sweeter.

“Harder,” she demanded, “faster.”

He obliged, picking up the pace, his strokes becoming shorter and more forceful. He pushed himself up on his hands, giving his hips more room to move, and watched as her neck arched and her breasts bounced with his every thrust. She lifted her knees to clasp his sides, and he redoubled his efforts. A wail, soft at first, and growing louder, escaped her to mingle with the slapping sounds of their flesh and the jazz that still played on the radio.

“Oh. God. More.” She cried, and Jack shifted his weight to one side, sliding a hand under her thigh, the silk of her stockings warm and soft against his calloused fingertips. Grasping gently, he pulled her leg up and over his shoulder, adjusting the angle of his thrusts as he did so. He could feel the slight drag on the head of his cock that meant he was sliding along her walls now, and she flung her arms over her head, grasping the doona for purchase as he fucked her.

With a short scream, she came, the tremors of her release beginning in her thighs and traveling up her back as she arched in pleasure. Jack grunted, feeling the muscular contractions of her climax gripping his cock; he paused, holding himself inside her body as she rode through the aftershocks. Pulling his knees under himself, he sat up, sliding the leg he held on his shoulder over his head and grasping her around the thigh with his other hand. Bracing his now-free hand on her hip, he began to move again, feeling his muscles protest at the continuing strain and his testicles tightening with the need to come.

She groaned, her hand flailing, and he caught it, entwining their fingers. She raised her head, watching him as he plunged himself into her over and over.

“God, your face,” she murmured breathlessly, and he looked up at her to see her biting her lip as she watched him, her shoulders still flat against the bed.

“Make yourself come,” he panted.

“But I just—”

“Again,” he growled, “with me.”

“If you insist,” she said, her tongue coming out to touch her upper lip. 

She released the doona she’d been clutching and slid her free hand down between her thighs. Jack felt her fingers brush his cock as he continued to thrust inside her; she sucked in a quick breath.

“Oh!” She gasped, “sensitive.”

He moved their joined hands to cover her breast, their palms pushing top and bottom and their twined fingers squeezing her nipple lightly. His breathing becoming choppy, he slowed his thrusts for a moment, resting with his full length inside her body before withdrawing and plunging deeply again. 

“Come, Phryne, _please_ ,” he moaned, repeating the pause and renewed thrusting again, his rhythm faltering as his orgasm approached.

“I can’t… I… _Jack!_ ” Her cry of release was more a hitching of her breath than a noise, the climax that rippled through her much smaller than the first two, but it was enough.

With a roar, Jack came, holding himself tightly against her as he jerked with the pleasure of long-denied orgasm. He felt her hand in his clench more tightly around her breast even as her release clutched him from within. Panting, he slumped forward to rest his head on her arm, his hips stilling with his cock still pressed deep inside her.

Eyes closed, he felt her hand stroking tenderly through his hair, and he hummed a soft note.

“I have to say, Jack,” she murmured, “that was one of our more successful outings, don’t you think?”

Jack raised his head and smiled at his love, whose careful hairstyle was completely ruined, her body flush and lax against the bed, her smile lazy and satisfied.

“Definitely,” he agreed. “Though I’m not sure what we did was legal, in the strictest sense.” Dropping a kiss to her shoulder, he withdrew, standing beside the bed and offering her a hand up. Phryne clasped it and rolled to her feet; moving to the room’s armoire to withdraw a robe that Dot had been kind enough to bring by earlier, she shrugged it on before walking past Jack to the washroom.

“Be right back,” she promised, and he leaned over to kiss her softly.

Jack moved around the room, turning off the radio and all of the lights but one before climbing into bed and pulling the covers up to his chest. He and Phryne had begun these little role-playing sessions when she’d asked him to play Archie on a night out on the town a few months after they’d become lovers. Jack always felt self-conscious in the clubs she liked to attend, but when he was Archie, he could let go of those inhibitions. They’d made love in her car that first night, parked on a dark road outside of town, and it had been glorious. So much so that they’d decided to continue “meeting” as characters other than themselves on a regular basis.

Sometimes only one of them would become someone new, but most often, they’d both take on a new identity for the evening. Although he’d had to draw the line at outside lovemaking after that first time—he could lose his job if they were discovered, so they found other, less-illegal locations, such as this hotel room—they skirted that line more often than not, as they had at the club tonight. And though the sex they had as themselves was always stirring, he knew they’d come home after this getaway feeling refreshed and renewed. They always did. It had been three years now, and their affair was still going strong.

Phryne came out of the washroom with her hair damp—she must have rinsed it out—and her makeup removed; her bare feet made no noise on the room’s thick rug. Stopping by the bed, she dropped her robe and turned out the light before sliding her naked body beneath the covers next to his.

Jack wrapped his arms around her and she snuggled close, sighing happily.

“Who knew that Dan would be so skilled in the boudoir,” she murmured. “He was a handsome one, but I’d’ve guessed he’d be more selfish than he turned out to be.”

Jack snorted. “I have no idea what you mean,” he said in mock affront. “Dan is clearly a professional man whose preference is to ensure that the woman he’s with finds considerable pleasure.” He tilted his head to press a kiss to Phryne’s damp hair. “Jenny, on the other hand—there was no denying she was going to be a firecracker. I nearly had to pull her into a corner to shag her in public.” He let out a low whistle.

“Jack!” she laughed, pinching the skin at his side. He yelped, laughing as he caught her hand.

“Go to sleep, my darling Miss Fisher,” he said, kissing her smiling lips.

“Just call me Jenny,” she whispered back, “and I’ll be sure to show you just how much of a firecracker I can be… in the morning.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” he murmured, closing his eyes. Tomorrow was shaping up to be a good day. 


End file.
